


Out of the Blue

by FirebirdRising



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Bisexual Lance, Gen, Klance if you squint, Lance's family is huge, M/M, vignettes of lance's life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-17
Updated: 2018-06-17
Packaged: 2019-05-24 13:45:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,170
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14955782
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FirebirdRising/pseuds/FirebirdRising
Summary: Lance is ten and average in every way when he decides to be a pilot. He lays upside-down on his mattress, his eyes fixed on the glow-in-the-dark stars adhered to his ceiling.Make something of yourself.





	Out of the Blue

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own Voltron.
> 
> Just something to help me survive the post-season six apocalypse.

His first memory is of lightning. Lance sits in the lap of his abuela, her hair tickling his nose, as she rocks him on their front porch.

 

“What’s that, Mimi?” He asks, and his voice is soft. At three years of age, he is in the shadow of no one, and therefore does not have to scream to be heard.

 

Lance, at this time,  is acknowledged for simply existing.

 

A finger traced his soft cheek before his abuela answers.

 

“It’s lightning,” she tells him. Her voice is tentative, for she is speaking a warning. It is Lance’s first memory, yet it’s already telling him to _go- go toward the danger._

 

_Make something of yourself._

 

The lightning is coming faster now, splitting the night sky over and over again before disappearing entirely. Lance lifts his hand off his small lap, reaching for it. He had laughed then: a beautiful, juvenile giggle that could have created worlds.

 

His abuela tightens her hold on his waist. A hug, he would think then. A reaction to fear, he would realize later.

 

“It’s so pretty,” Lance tells her, placing a small hand on the arm encircling his waist. His eyes are heavy now. The lightning blurs in and out of his vision as he struggles to stay awake.

 

Mimi smiles.

 

“Yes,” she agrees. “It’s beautiful.” She points to the sky. “But it is also dangerous.” she takes one of his small hands in her own.

 

His abuela goes on to explain how lightning works: how it can come and go in seconds, leaving someone hurt. Lance barely listens. His ears focus on his mother’s humming wafting through the open windows, and his eyes are on the sky.

 

If he could make it that far, he could do anything.

 

\-------

 

Lance grows up in a family with a shortage of nothing. Their income was enough to get by. Their home was big enough to house all fourteen people. And their love…

 

The love that encircled that home could have carried the world on it’s back.

 

Every night in his childhood home, Lance would join his family in the kitchen for dinner. On the best nights, dinner would lead to a board game, or a story, or- his favorite- music.

 

His abuela will sit at the piano for hours. Lance will join in his family’s favorite songs. The harmonies will bring chills to his skin, and the sound of his mother’s voice will eventually lead him into a dreamless slumber.

 

(Years later, in space, Lance would remember these nights. If he strained, he could still hear Luis and his strangled notes and Veronica’s angelic soprano.

 

He ignores the confused looks when one day, during a mission, he begins humming under his breath.)

 

\----

 

Lance is ten and average in every way when he decides to be a pilot. He lays upside-down on his mattress, his eyes fixed on the glow-in-the-dark stars adhered to his ceiling.

 

_Make something of yourself._

 

He is the middle child: lost in a sea of beautiful, talented, intelligent siblings. Lance doesn’t have a gift- not like them.

 

But he will.

 

\------

 

He watches as his mother beams, tears swimming in her chestnut eyes, as he shows her the acceptance letter from the Garrison. The small, thin piece of paper confirms a full ride: a life of promise for their twelve-year-old son.

 

Lance packs his bags that night with the help of eight siblings, two sets of grandparents, and his mother and father.

 

“Make us proud,” his father had said as he pulled him into an embrace.

 

Lance left that sunlit morning with a bag on his back, a letter in his hand, and his eyes fixed on the world above him.

 

\----

 

The day Keith Kogane washes out is the best day of his life.

 

_Make something of yourself._

 

Lance is a few hundredths of a point behind his competitors now- not miles away like he was with Keith.

 

As far as he was concerned then, the stars were his to conquer.

 

\-----

 

Space is huge, Lance decides. It's a stupid thing to say, but how else was he supposed to put a place into words?

 

There are galaxies everywhere: pockets of people who sing and love, just as he did for years at home.

 

(He comes to this realization on day eighteen, and at the moment he doesn't feel alone.)

 

\-----

 

“How old do you think we’ll be when we go back?”

 

(Hunk asks the question on day forty-seven.)

 

The paladins of Voltron are sitting in the common area after a particularly grueling training session.

 

Keith, from his perch on the floor, grunts. Pidge makes a concerned sound. As Shiro draws her to his side, he answers.

 

“Older than we are now.”

 

On another day, they would have laughed. Shiro, the Dad: ever captain obvious.

 

They don't that day, though.

 

\-----

 

On day one hundred and twenty three, Lance finds Pidge crying. She's hunched up against a wall, Shiro’s arms encircling her tiny form, as she sobs.

 

“Matt-”

 

(Lance thinks back to Luis- to Veronica and Marco and Jeremy.)

 

“I miss Matt.”

 

Shiro nods in understanding. His dark eyes meet Lance’s with the instructions to leave.

 

He does.

 

\----

 

It's day two hundred and four, and Lance is the weakest link.

 

No longer is he a happy medium of a handful of young minds. No. Now he is just the weakest: plain and simple. A cargo pilot in a sea of geniuses and heroes.

 

Lance walks the halls of the castle in his swim trunks, running into Keith in the elevator. They bicker, as always: Lance biting into his looks while Keith dug into his skill.

 

_Make something of yourself._

 

When the elevator stops, Lance does as well. He tries not to think of Keith’s warm flesh again his own as they scale the walls.

 

(It's the most human contact he's had in months.)

 

\----

 

The next day, (day two hundred and five), Lance begins hunting for touch like it's expensive game.

 

He slaps Shiro on the shoulder, hugs Pidge from behind as she works, and climbs onto Hunk’s back for a piggyback ride.

 

Keith humors him as well, offering to spar with him when Lance meets him in the hall. The blue paladin always loses. Keith pulls him up with an hand that lingers just a tick to long.

 

\----

By day three hundred and sixty-five, Lance has had a lot of firsts. His first game of spin the bottle in space. His first trip to a space doctor (also known as Coran). His first official come-out to anyone.

 

“I’m bi,” Lance tells them randomly one morning (Evening? Afternoon? It’s hard to tell in space.)

 

Around the table, there is silence. Coran and Allura exchange a confused look, while Keith chokes on his space goo. As Hunk beats the red paladin between the shoulder blades, he sheepishly turns to Pidge.

 

“Was that supposed to be a secret or…?”

 

\----

 

The red lion is faster- harder to control.

 

_Make something of yourself._

 

It is day three hundred and eighty-seven, and Keith is gone.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Please leave a review, if you don't mind.


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